


Diagnosed Psychopath

by JustSomeAsshole



Series: Thomas Gibson [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fights, Forced Orgasm, Fucked Up, Hand Jobs, Knifeplay, Knives, Mild Blood, Psychology, Smut, Strong Female Characters, Unsub | Unknown Subject
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeAsshole/pseuds/JustSomeAsshole
Summary: The BAU are working on a case where the Unsub is a female serial killer who sexually tortures and murders wealthy, handsome men.They have a profile, but she hasn't been caught yet. When Hotch returns to his hotel room guess who's lying in wait for him?
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Thomas Gibson [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154426
Kudos: 16





	Diagnosed Psychopath

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Criminal Minds or its character, but the women is an original character.  
> It gets more intense as it goes in. Poor Hotch, I really fucked with the dude's head in this.

* * *

_The Unsub we're looking for is female, age 25-30, around 5 foot 9 with dark brown hair, she is dominant and likes being in control of her victims. She targets men who are in their late 40s, successful, traditionally handsome, single._

_She most likely lives alone in an expensive apartment, we know she has money and is likely to have had experience in the sex work industry. She is a highly intelligent sexual sadist, and while information and studies on female sadists is very low we do know that she kills because she wants to - there is no confusion in her motives. We know that what she does to her victims before killing them is because the thing that gets her off is making people submit. This type of psychopath is very skilled in manipulation, she will have spent many years convincing people that she isn't who she is._

_Remember that she is dangerous and will likely be carrying a knife or some form of protective weapon, she is smart - do not underestimate her. Her MO suggests a traumatic past that she believes she has moved on from, she was likely taken advantage of or assaulted when she was younger. Killing men is fun for her, she isn't scared of them._

_She is strong, both emotionally and physically. It is likely that she has had self defence training due to her physical dominance over her victims. If she is cornered she will fight back so be prepared and stay safe._

... 

The team were exhausted, three days spent desperately trying to find some shred of evidence from the crime scenes had left them losing hope. While still on high alert they traipsed back to their hotel rooms to try and grab a few hours of sleep. Hotch was the last one back to the hotel by 45 minutes, always one to carry on working it was hard for him to relax. However, soon enough he walked down the hall towards his room, his eyes were scratchy and heavy and he just wanted to get into bed so he could look at this case again in the morning.

Hotch swiped the room key card through the lock and it flashed green, signaling him to open the door and drop his briefcase by the bedside table - the door shut absently behind him. With tired lungs the man sighed and fiddled with the knot on his tie, pulling the two ends of material out of each other and letting it hang around his neck. 

He knew the turn of phrase was ridiculous and had no scientific explanation, but the room went cold. Deadly cold. The small hairs on the back of Hotch's neck were the first to notice her presence. Then his ears, something that sounded remarkably like a switch blade being opened in the bathroom behind him had Hotch instinctively reach for his gun with twitching fingers. The woman walked slowly up to his turned back, Hotch didn't flinch when the sharp point of a blade dug into his lower back. 

"Hello Agent" she spoke. Hotch didn't reply, his hand just hung above his gun holster. 

"What, I don't get a 'hi'?" She asked, far too casually for the situation they were in. Her eyes dropped to where he had slowly wrapped his fingers around the handle of his federal issue glock. "Think you can pull the trigger fast enough?" 

There was a second of silence while she smiled, she pulled her knife away from his back and Hotch drew his gun and turned around in a split second. The unsub ducked immediately and pushed an elbow into his ribs, Hotch regained his balance in a practised movement and threw her towards the floor. She grunted at the impact and dropped her knife, looking around for where it landed she heard the cocking of a gun and looked up to see Hotch pointing it at her head with a steady glare.

Breathing deep with a smile the unsub kicked up, hitting his wrist and making Hotch lose his grip enough for her to spin from her position on the floor and knock his legs out from under him. They heard the metal clatter against the carpet as the unsub stood tall, she kicked him again but this time with the bottom of her foot pressing into his chest and knocking him back against the floor long enough for her to pick up his gun. 

They were both breathing hard and the unsub stood with a leg either side his shoulders, taking her turn at pointing the loaded weapon at his face.

"You don't look scared" she stated, still with that stupid smirk on her face. 

"Perhaps that's because I'm not" she believed him, it wasn't really fear she was after anyway. Before Hotch had a chance to take control of the situation the unsub grabbed the barrel of the gun and crouched slightly, one swift hit connected his temple with the butt of the handle and knocked him unconscious. A slow puddle of blood started to form from the broken skin, she watched it drip onto the carpet under his head. 

"You better not be dead" she sighed, she used two fingers to check his pulse by his neck and found it slow but present. "Dramatic" she tutted.

* * *

Hotch's eyes fluttered open slowly, his eyelashes felt far too heavy and he tried to move his hand to clutch his head, but he couldn't. He was sat in a chair, he knew that much, Hotch flexed his fingers but discomfort shot through his wrists at the attempted movement. He couldn't hear her moving toward him through the throbbing in his temples, he could barely even feel her presense. 

"Good morning" he heard the voice in the back of his head like he was submerged in a dream, in a nightmare. His mouth shifted, small garbles of noise emerging when his brain caught up to her. She had her hand hovering above his pants and Hotch jerked away to no avail when he realised. With his full consciousness somewhere in the distance Hotch couldn't form words, he couldn't even form a straight thought. 

"Do-don't" he rushed, Hotch managed to keep that slight stern edge to his voice but the desperation seeped through anyway. 

"Don't what?" She asked cockily, "what do you think I'm going to do Agent Hotchner?" The unsub slowly unbuttoned his fly, taking her sweet time in pulling his zipper down.

"My team-" he protested. 

"Your _team_ are useless to you, honestly it was surprising how easy it was to take them down, aren't you guys meant to be trained to fight?" She opened his pants but sat back on the chair she had placed opposite him, too close to him - some random show of her dominance he guessed. 

"What did you do?" He asked with venom in his voice, anger. 

"Calm down, I just needed them quiet for a few hours, they'll be perfectly fine" she answered. Her left hand flicked her blade open again, Hotch stared at it, at her hand. "I know you've already had quite a bit of experience with knives, I hope I don't bring back too many -" she pushed it forward, the sharp metal ripped through a button - "bad memories for you". She did admit to herself that Agent Hotchner looked rather attractive like this...they all did. 

"It is a bit derivative" he spat his words from behind gritted teeth, emphasising the last trying to get a response from her, trying to find out which buttons he could press to get himself out of this mess. She just laughed, something short and amused. 

"The Reaper" she stated, gliding the blade through the stitch of another button, "yeah, he was definitely disturbed" 

"And you're not?" Another button. 

"I don't claim to be well adjusted Agent Hotchner, but I like to think I have more class than he did" she grazed it over the exposed patch of chest, drawing a bead of blood. 

"You're just another killer" he bit out. 

"Ouch" the unsub clutched her chest dramatically, "and here I thought I was special" 

"Being a different kind of messed up doesn't make you special" the knife cut another button off, she was ignoring the insult in his words and grazed a red line between his pecs. 

"If you say so Agent" another button pinged off, "what did you say about me in your profile?" She asked absently, paying more attention to the lines she was drawing on his skin than his face. 

"Why do you want to know?" She shrugged.

"Don't you wanna find out how accurate you were?" 

"We said you likely experienced childhood trauma, or abuse. That you're a classic psychopath and a sexual sadist" Hotch spoke through the flecks of pain she was tracing on his chest. She nodded in acknowledgement. 

"What else?" 

"You are a good manipulator, you only let people see what you want them too. It shows that you have trouble making connections with people, you avoid commitment" he stayed steady, eyes fixed on her face.

"Well, I think I should've given you more credit. That wasn't far off although I'm not sure why you suspected childhood abuse"

"Are you saying you had a happy family?" 

"My parents were fine, sure they were a little distant at times but they were good. I'm the oldest sibling so I never had anyone picking on me, I helped my brother with his school work, I read him stories et cetera" then she looked him in the eye, "what does that say about me?" Hotch's eyebrow twitched when she spoke, some element of confusion floating in the back of his head at how someone with that life could become someone like this. 

"I don't know" and he meant it. 

"Ah well, enough about me, I'm not here to tell you my life story and you've distracted me long enough" Hotch's throat bobbed in the first sign that he may've been scared, or at least apprehensive. His mind unconsciously went back to the images in her case file, the bodies of her victims and the medical reports detailing what she did to them ante-mortem. 

"This is exciting, I've never sat with a man who knows exactly what I'm going to do with him", she licked her bottom lip and drew her eyes to the Agent's fly she had previously opened. There was a flash of navy blue at the band of his underwear, boxers, briefs, she didn't know yet. She placed the knife down on the carpet by his feet, further mocking his inability to move, and let her fingers dance over to his pants. Hotch shifted in a somewhat desperate attempt to escape but his ankles were bound to the feet of the chair, a further restriction she put in place. 

The unsub pushed the opening of his pants a bit further and hooked a finger into that blue waistband. Above her she could hear, feel his chest moving up and down and then her hand was in his pants. Her entire palm buried under what she now knew to be his boxers. 

"You don't have to do this" he said, and she could hear the desperation now, it made her smile. 

"You won't be able to reason with me Hotchner, a profiler should know that" he dressed to the left and her fingers were now touching his cock, Hotch ground his teeth together at the violation but refused to give her the power and satisfaction of asking her to stop. She pulled him out of the boxers and held him in her left hand for a moment. She never quite understood the appeal towards male genitalia, sure it did the job and if you found the right one sex could be a good experience but her interest was more fascination. Fascination with the human body. 

"Not bad" she half complimented him, Hotch could have got whiplash from the juxtaposition of her casual demeanor and the situation she had him in. He didn't want this, he knew he wanted her to just stop touching him, the vulnerability made him tense and the audacity of her confidence shocked him. 

But she was touching him more now, no, she was moving, the unsub began to rub him up and down in a pumping motion and Hotch tensed his jaw. 

"Don't" the same word he said earlier, although it came out as less of a warning and more of a stubborn plea this time. He could hear the thrum of his pulse replacing the pained throb of his bruised and cut temple. There was something deeper than fear at knowing the end result of the situation he was in, Hotch breathed through the strange abuse her hand was inflicting. 

Before he even had time to adjust he heard a plastic snap, the unsub's spare hand flicked open a small bottle and his eyes widened when she poured a cold, gel like liquid in a line along his currently soft cock. It made her hand move smoother along him, jerking him up and down until Hotch cursed himself for his body's reaction.

"Stop" another single word, another attempt to end the madness that died in the air between them. 

"I never liked the rhetoric that men can't be raped" that word, _rape,_ the thing Hotch had avoided thinking about, the thing he would continue to deny to himself. "They say it isn't possible because men would just enjoy it, is that true? Are you enjoying it?" Her voice was different, it was dark and hard and all trace of humour had gone. Hotch's throat bobbed again. Of course he wasn't enjoying it, he couldn't like something like this, someone like her. He couldn't answer her. 

She tightened her touch around the slowly hardening skin, his toes clenched, he was trying to salvage some level of control but his body didn't care that he didn't want it. 

"It's interesting that people with dicks will respond to physical stimulation even if they don't want it" she almost read his mind, "I can always get a reaction from men, women need some form of emotional, intellectual stimulus, but you just need contact" 

He was almost hard now, almost feeling pleasure from her movements, her finger and thumb formed a ring to guide her hand tight over his cock. The twist of her wrist and the slow pace had blood pouring down inside Hotch's body, blood he wanted to stay in his head so he could control his senses. He was hard, a stiff shape in her grip and Hotch was breathing deep. 

"Tell me why you think I do this" She asked. Hotch almost didn't reply, scared his voice would tremble and give into her. 

"Power. You want to make people, men, do what you want them too" it was strained but he was steady. 

"You don't know power until a man who had been begging you to let him go, pleading with you not to touch him - saying he didn't want it, starts to beg you to touch him more. You keep him on the edge and he wants you to make him explode. It's the best feeling in the world" she said, she wasn't smiling anymore, her pupils were lust black and Hotch almost panted at the sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. "You'll do the same" there was honesty in her voice, certainty, something that made Hotch bite back a groan. 

The lube she had poured on him was making the glide of her hand unbearably good, he was chanting a mantra in his head, he didn't want it, he didn't want it, he didn't want it. He hated the attention she played to the tip of his cock, resented that she knew exactly where to touch to make him lose control over his body. 

"I know you want to make noise for me, beg me to jerk you off faster, Hotchner. I can feel it in your cock, you're getting so hard" her commentary wasn't helping the confliction between his head and his body, he knew he was hard, he knew soon he would want to cum, but he couldn't. There was no stern comment on the tip of his tongue, no brain power to say something that would give him back his autonomy. 

It was pulsing inside him now, the reminder that he was getting that bit closer to the danger of orgasm, Hotch gritted his teeth again and curled his toes. 

"You're fighting it but you want it so badly don't you?" She said, "you want to let go and just let yourself cum, you want me to push you over the edge but you need to stop lying to yourself" _shut up, shut up._ She didn't know what he wanted, he told himself she was wrong. 

"Come on. I can't let you go until you ask for it, I want to hear you say please. You're so warm, it feels so good for you doesn't it?" _Fuck,_ it was almost condescending the way that she spoke to him, like she was helping him rather than just playing out a sick ritual. Manipulation, Hotch said it himself she was a manipulator. 

"I bet this wasn't in your little profile, did your ME know that minutes before your victims died they were pleading with me, begging me to finish them off", no, it wasn't, how could he know the extent of her torture. It was all psychological, that was why no one knew much about female sadists because they didn't have to use pain to get to their victims. 

"I know that's what you want, it's what I want too - I wanna hear you say please, I wanna hear you when you scream because it's going to start hurting soon" she was warning him, she was helping him, Hotch shut his eyes and breathed away the groan forming in his mouth. 

"Your cock is going to get so red and desperate and it would really be in your best interest to ask for it, I'm doing this for you Hotchner come on, it's just a few little words" doing this for him, she was doing it for herself. He tried to scramble onto a clear thought and struggled against his bonds, he wanted to escape. 

"Don't fight it, your body is desperate for it, just let yourself have it". _It_ _._ He didnt know what it was, he didn't know what she was saying or why his cock was aching and pulsing as she jerked him off. 

She was almost whispering now, closer to his ear than before. "I want to feel you twitch, and shake, and groan, because I bet you sound so good when you nut. How long has it been Hotchner, since someone else has jacked you off?" Another question. She knew he wouldn't answer, she didnt want him to, she wanted him to think about it.Think about how it had been far too many months since someone had touched him like this, far too many weeks since he had touched himself. 

"It must get boring only having your own hands late at night, what do you think about when you touch yourself?" She wanted him to think about it now. "You're a big FBI man, do you think about the victims you've rescued?" Her hand quickened. "Maybe you think about how they'd be so grateful that they'd let you take them home and fuck them in the house they were taken from. Maybe on the bed their parents were killed." She was fucked up, she was fucking him up and her hand was connecting the pleasure to what she was saying and he couldn't stop the noise he made this time. He was close, so close. 

"Fuck, yeah you like that don't you, I can feel your dick twitching when you think about it" she slowed down, made her movements shallower. "I bet you also think about your Unsubs, as you call them, how many times have you thought about dragging them into the station, fucking them over an interrogation table?" Questions, questions making him think and picture things that he didn't know turned him on.

"They can't get away then can they, they'll be handcuffed and no one would care if they heard them screaming" she was right, they wouldn't pay attention. Hotch was sweating in his seat, his breathing so heavy now and a tortured moan appearing at the image she created.

"Is that what you wanted to do to me? Did you think about catching me, fucking me, tying me up or making me suck your cock?" She really was evil, he had to remind himself that psychopath means manipulator, she wants him to be confused.

"Look at you, you love being in control but that dark side is so well hidden. I wanna see him, I wanna see your fun side Hotchner, you know no one else on this floor will hear you so come on, say please" his brain was floating on a sea of forced arousal, he wanted to cum, his body wanted to climax and the sensible part of his consciousness was drowning. He shouldn't let her win. But we wanted to. 

"You want me to make you cum. I know you want this, why don't you let yourself have what you want? Tell me to make you, I need you to tell me you want it Hotchner" another moan, a start of a word, his eyes were watering up where they were closed tightly shut. He wanted it, he wanted it. _No, don't give in to her_. That voice again, that conflict between submission and control. 

"I -" he breathed. 

"Yes, that's it come on, ask me, say please for me" she was pumping faster and his chest was burning, his cock too hard for him to keep fighting. 

"Fuck" he cursed, a quiet groan but he was getting there. "I want it" 

"What do you want Hotchner? Tell me what you want me to do, I can't help you until you ask nicely" condescending again, he didn't. A sob breached his lips.

"Let me.." he breathed, "make me cum" he rushed the words but she smiled at the admission, "please fuck I don't care anymore" 

She didn't need to tell him to finish, her hand squeased and jerked and the other joined in, twisting in different directions until he cursed again, shaking in a groan and a spurt of cum shot from his cock in an explosion of stars behind his eyes.

"Ohh yeah there we go, fuck look at all that" he kept cumming, breathing hard, "oh there's more, you got more for me Hotchner? Yeah that's it" she kept moving, kept milking it from him, pulling more spurts of pleasure from his pulsing cock. Hotch writhed around when the sensitivity kicked in, when the sparks of pleasure fell to a higher intensity and it hurt when she moved her hand. 

"Stop" he panted, so quietly, he didnt even have the energy to move in the chair as his head hanged down towards his chest. The cum on his dick worked as a momentary lube because she continued to pump up and down, he stayed rock hard but didn't think he'd be able to cum again. She didn't care. Her own breathing was heavy as the excitement of watching him cum, hearing him ask for it built up a pool of arousal in the pit of her stomach. 

Hotch cried out a sharp moan when he felt something more intense than an orgasm pulling at his nerves, she was going to make him cum again. A second orgasm that would drive his nervous system into a wreck. 

"Aready?" She asked, impressed, when whiteness dribbled out from his tortured head. "Must've got you really worked up, look how pretty your dick looks when it pours over you" _pretty,_ he wasnt pretty, the adjective made his dick twitch. She wanted him to look, he couldn't open his eyes.

"Do you want me to drain you completely?" Hotch was exhausted as he fearfully shook his head in a desperate attempt at communication, he couldn't do it anymore, he was sore and buzzing and her hand held onto his base. 

"Hmm" she hummed thoughtfully, "I'd like hurting you Hotchner, I'd like hearing you wince, maybe even scream" she said that like she hadn't already ruined him, his body, his mind. He couldn't gather the energy to care when she stood up, he guessed she walked into the bathroom because he could hear a tap running, filling up a glass. She took a drink of water.

Soon she was back next to him and her hand was tugging his hair backwards, pulling his head back and making him strain his neck. Hotch groaned distantly but his eyes were now open, tired, heavy. That knife was in her hand again, pressing the metal against his exposed throat, the edge of the sharp blade caught his skin and he hissed at a drop of blood falling dangerously close to his artery. 

There was something making her hesitate, something when she looked at his eyes that made her hand still from where she had him. She could just slit his throat, she would normally do it without thinking but she couldn't. Frustrated by her sudden onset conscience she let the blade scrape above his collarbone instead, she made tiny little knicks and scrapes, just enough to make Hotch wince at the sting. 

The unsub let go of his hair and sat back in her chair, the surviving few buttons of Hotch's shirt were ripped off when she took the material in hand and tore it apart, letting them fall around him. The tip of the blade was now on his abdomen, above his navel and Hotch felt his breath hitch when he connected the dots. Her signature. The letter she left on her victims was carved post mortem but she wasn't killing him, she just wanted to mark him. He shifted in his chair when she drew the first line, it wasn't too deep but it wasn't shallow, the knife penetrated and dragged a sharp vertical line about four cm long down his abdomen. He clenched his jaw, trying to breathe through the line of pain. 

She left the tip of the knife inside him and twisted it, turned it to draw a perpendicular line at the bottom and Hotch felt a sting in his eyes, his hands clenching into fists behind him, struggling in the chair. 

"Sit still, you don't want me to mess this up" was it a threat? He didn't know, just knew that somehow, for whatever reason he seemed to attract psychos with knives who wanted to leave him scarred. Another line was cut into his body, and he grunted in pain. She was drawing an uppercase E. The final line was the deepest and the unsub sat back to watch her artwork drip, blood gathered at the edges and dribbled down, merging the lines but she knew when it was cleaned up the scar would remain intact. She smiled. 

She went into the bathroom again, washing off her knife and hands, and the glass she drank out of (she wasn't stupid).

"It feels wrong" she said, walking towards him. "Why don't I want to kill you?" She was back to the casual tone, and serious topic. "I mean, you're definitely my type, and you're a fed so that's like bonus points" did she really need him in this conversation...

The unsub stood behind him and Hotch was still quiet when she undid the knots on the tie she used to bind his wrists, he brought his arms in front of him and rubbed the sore red lines on his hands and wrists, he took the moment to put himself back together, zip up his fly and retain the grain of modesty he had left before untying his ankles himself. He saw her reach toward the door of the hotel room, she was just going to leave him there. 

"What makes you think I'm going to let you get away with this?" He said, standing now, strength in his words. She smiled. 

"What makes you think you can stop me?" She challenged him, Hotch went for her and grabbed her by the throat, she was up against the wall in seconds and she seemed almost shocked that he was able to pin her. Her hand reached for her knife but her expression fell when Hotch revealed he was holding it, holding it far too close to her throat. He wasn't going to do anything, she took the chance and drove a knee into the fresh cuts on his stomach and Hotch choked in pain, her elbow connected with his forehead and he stumbled backwards. She grabbed the knife in his moment of dizziness and before he knew it she was out the door. 

He coughed and held his head and when he went after her she wasn't in the corridor, he rushed over to his window and a few seconds passed before he saw her leave the hotel. He lost her. 

The End - 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope it was good for ya. Feel free to leave a comment below, I thrive off the attention of others......


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